


At First

by beefcakemish



Series: Misc. Drabbles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Detached Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, First Time, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst, M/M, Top Castiel, not between dean and cas, rough sex (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beefcakemish/pseuds/beefcakemish
Summary: Dean and Cas' first time brings some not great memories to Dean's mind. Cas notices and does his best to replace Dean's memories with only good ones.





	At First

At first, everything is rushed.

The push and pull of fabric.

The urgent, grasping hands on sweat-laden, freckled skin.

A constant low hum of electricity in the air, from an air conditioner that has most definitely seen better days.

But somewhere in the chaos, in the silence between heavy huffs of air, blown across swollen, pink lips, everything slows down.

In a stumble of limbs, heavy with promises of pleasure, they make it to the bed. Dean is the first to fall, the lifting of his hips, and bow of his head to the cool sheets on the firm mattress enticing Cas to follow.

Warm fingertips move reverently along the exposed skin of Dean’s thigh and across the small of his back. He furrows his brow, and steels himself for the flinch he knows is coming, but it seems the height of arousal has put a haze in his mind. It’s quick, and he swears he didn’t actually move, but it does not go unnoticed. Especially not by Cas.

He thinks he hears a whispered ‘Oh, Dean…’ from mere feet behind him, and before he has time to react, Dean is being rolled over and draped in Cas’ warm, strong, albeit heavy length. Face framed by Cas’ hands, thumbs caressing his jaw with a tenderness that absolutely does not bring tears to Dean’s eyes.

Dean’s not use to the warm, gentle touch of a lover.

He’s used to the rough push and pull, the hard grabbing of flesh by hands too cold and calloused, and the taking of pleasure without reciprocation. He’s never had sex with a man while looking into their eyes, looking into their soul, searching for a connection he knows he won’t find. He’s a tool; a toy. Something to be admired and played with, but when broken, easily tossed to the side.

But looking up at Cas, seeing the love in Dean’s heart mirrored in the others’ eyes, he yearns for that connection. Cas, who has seen the worst of him, and still thinks the best of him. Cas, who has stood beside him, died for him, fought through Hell, and gave up Heaven, for him. It’s easy, then, to wrap himself around Cas and all that he is.

If Cas notices the tears in Dean’s eyes, or the desperate way his fingers cling to the flesh of his back, he doesn’t acknowledge them. He only holds Dean closer as they move together, breathing words of love and admiration into the dwindling space between them, until even the words are too much. Silence takes over; and Cas moves with determination, moments before Dean cries out and spills between them, followed soon by his own release.

The next time they’re intimate, Dean doesn’t flinch. He’s expecting the soft, warm caress of Cas’ hands on his skin. He welcomes it. Craves it.


End file.
